


Take Me Where I Cannot Stand

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Alternate Universe Exchange 2020, Anal Fingering, Banter, Blow Jobs, Dry Humping, Explicit Sexual Content, First Meetings, First Time, Frottage, Humour, Kissing, M/M, No Angst, Oral Sex, Snark, Space Hooker Jaskier | Dandelion, Space Outlaw Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Space Outlaws and Space Hookers Oh My!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26178847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: Some imbecile attempts to rob Yennefer's joint, probably operating under the assumption that no one's about to call him on his guff, which essentially translates to him undoubtedly being as bright as a box of hair. Regardless, he is brandishing a seventeen-inch sawn-off shotgun in a rather haphazard manner Jaskier's not particularly fond of.Or: Jaskier is a Space Hooker™, Geralt is a Space Outlaw™, and Yennefer is Done™ with them. (Fringilla just works here.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 24
Kudos: 232
Collections: Alternate Universe Exchange 2020





	Take Me Where I Cannot Stand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nan/gifts).



Some imbecile attempts to rob Yennefer's joint, probably operating under the assumption that no one's about to call him on his guff, which essentially translates to him undoubtedly being as bright as a box of hair. Regardless, he is brandishing a seventeen-inch sawn-off shotgun in a rather haphazard manner Jaskier's not particularly fond of.

But he doesn't have to think on that too much, as the front parlour windows proceed to disintegrate into static and sparks, followed by a rather dashing person of the very much masculine persuasion careening into the room, swords cocked rather dashingly, if not dangerously. Jaskier remembers something along the lines of knives and gunfights, is even contemplating snarking out loud about it, but that's before one of the swords cuts the gun arm of the ruffian right off before he even gets the chance to _consider_ shooting. Jaskier is, how they say, right charmed.

"Huh," he mutters. Which is about when Yenn steps forward, clearly annoyed, to call out, "Don't think you're not paying for the window, Geralt."

This Geralt person grunts something gruff and unintelligible in response, but seems oddly cowed nevertheless. Jaskier is intrigued. And vaguely scared. But, to be fair, that's never stopped him before.

As Geralt is inspecting the shotgun interestedly, his opponent already passed out in the middle of the room from blood loss, Jaskier steps forward to ask, "Are you going to hock that?"

Although only one sword is bloody, they both are shining decidedly threateningly, pointy ends vaguely aimed towards Jaskier's side of the room. But Geralt doesn't seem intent on using them on him, so Jaskier adds, "At least wait for us to carry the body out."

"He'll live," Geralt grunts. And, well, grunting seems to be a way of life with him. Glancing over Jaskier's shoulder, he says, "We're even," to which Yennefer replies, perfectly miffed, "What about my window?"

Jaskier watches him pull out several credits and fling them onto the nearest table before sheathing both swords at his back, picking up both the shotgun and its previous owner, and walking out carrying more things than a single human person could possibly carry on their own.

"He's a witcher, right?" Jaskier asks no one in particular, back turned to the room at large as he watches him exit the scene.

He can't be sure it's Yenn who throws the decorative book at him, but he wouldn't put it past her.

*

"But he _is_ a witcher, correct?"

Fringilla is overseeing the maid who is currently scrubbing at the front parlour carpet rather ineffectively. She is a horrid micromanager when it comes to the staff, but, on the other hand, doing rather a stellar job of ignoring Jaskier.

Finally, probably under the weight of Jaskier's inscrutable stare, she turns to the side and snaps, "You're staring at me significantly, but I fail to see the end point here. Do enlighten me!" she entreats, false-cheerful.

"You're not answering my questions!" Jaskier whines. His new corset is itchy even over his chemise and everyone is refusing to answer his questions, so he's forced to become more shrill than he'd normally allow himself to be in polite company, or whatever passes for polite with the ladies of this fine establishment. He's usually the image of propriety. Well, good enough for government work.

She sighs. "Figure it out, Bard." Then turns to snap at the maid.

Well. Uncalled for.

*

The Geralt person returns the same day as when Jaskier goes into town and realises Geralt's face is plastered all over every available wall space with a rather large sum of credits listed as a reward.

Apparently, Geralt of Rivia is a wanted man. Huh.

No one at Yennefer's seems particularly concerned with this detail. If anything, he hears Sabrina talk about finally something exciting happening around the place which doesn't involve cock ( _"Well, not exclusively," she concedes._ ). Jaskier would agree, if not for the fact that he rather enjoys being employed and would rather not have anyone burst in looking for Geralt under the erroneous assumption he may be frequenting the place.

Until he actually _is_ frequenting the place. Bother!

"What is _he_ doing here?" he wheezes into Yennefer's ear. She pushes him to the side, unimpressed, but actually delivers a reply, for once. "I thought he'd piqued your interest." And Jaskier wants to scream, but, then again, she's not wrong. Also, she doesn't seem particularly concerned with Geralt's presence here, so maybe Jaskier shouldn't be either, though he's often found Yennefer to be much more likely to set things on fire than Jaskier, which is by no means a criticism, merely an observation.

Besides, as far as Jaskier can see, Geralt isn't doing anything violent at this point. And Yennefer isn't particularly concerned with the blood stain in the middle of her carpet, so Jaskier takes up his lute and ambles over, never mind Sabrina is already at the piano.

"We meet again." He throws his most winning smile while bowing his back to show off both his corseted waist and his rather lovely bottom.

"Hmm." Clearly his assets are lost on _some people_.

"Smooth talker, aren't you?" he mutters, barely refraining from rolling his eyes ceilingwards.

Geralt glances from his wine goblet. Jaskier feels as if he's meant to be cowering under that look, but Jaskier rarely manages to perform as he's meant to. His deceased music career is evidence enough of that.

He's about to actually use his lute for something other than decoration when Geralt asks, "Are you engaged?"

"Pardon?"

He gets a meaningful look thrown his way. Jaskier has trouble deciphering what said meaning is, but he doubles-down on guessing that whatever Geralt is referring to Jaskier is _not_.

"Uh, no?" He tries to inject some certainty, but he's mightily confused at the moment as it so happens.

"Good." Then Geralt walks away rather rudely.

Well then.

Several minutes later Jaskier finds himself courting the attentions of a minor government official intent on buying him a glass of the splendid vintage Yennefer carries for the guests at an adequately overpriced charge, when the lady herself motions him over with a pleasant smile meant exclusively for their guest. Jaskier is tentatively certain he hasn't done anything atrocious as of late, for that carries little weight given Yennefer's penchant for not exactly being the most patient when it comes to his antics, which is frankly some form of discrimination Jaskier has yet to pinpoint.

"What did you do?"

"Pardon?" At Yennefer's look he adds, "Truly I have no clue what you mean." He's reasonably certain he doesn't.

"Geralt is waiting for you upstairs."

"Uh."

"He said you assured him you were not otherwise engaged." She glances over his shoulder at the minor government official and back. "Well?"

"I may have," he relents. Then, "Is he _really_... I mean, _you know_ ," he wiggles his eyebrows. "Waiting," he whispers as if it were a secret. Maybe it is. Geralt is a wanted man, after all.

Yennefer rolls her eyes and plainly passes him a key while entirely devoid of the murky cloud of someone harbouring a known fugitive. "Don't do anything stupid."

Jaskier would _never_.

He only falls up the stairs twice on his way to Geralt.

*

The room Geralt is currently occupying isn't one of the best Yennefer has to offer, but it is exponentially more secluded from the rest of the guest bedrooms than any other part of the house. Jaskier appreciates the privacy. He would appreciate it even more were Geralt waiting for him with his clothes adorning absolutely any other thing, surface or person than his own body, but they have an hour, maybe more, for that sort of thing, depending on how much time Geralt bought himself.

"Well, isn't this lovely?" Jaskier cheerily says, but leaves it at that on account of Geralt muttering, "Don't you ever shut up?" and "May I?" while stalking across the room to kiss him upon Jaskier vaguely nodding assent.

They don't make haste to the bed. Jaskier doesn't mind. Getting acquainted with Geralt's lips and tongue is a worthwhile endeavour in itself.

He particularly doesn't mind as he proceeds, for the next twenty minutes, to ride one of those magnificent thighs of his while Geralt fingers him stupid with two thick digits liberally oiled with Yennefer's best house brand, all while Jaskier's still leaning against the closed door, clothes halfway discarded and hanging haphazardly from their bodies. He then gets to enjoy Geralt's mouth, suction just right to draw his balls up and have him spilling embarrassingly quickly.

They do make it to the bed, eventually, mostly so Geralt can retrieve more oil to keep Jaskier's hole well-stuffed as he takes his own pleasure by fucking his cock into the groove of Jaskier's groin, licking into his mouth all the while. Afterwards, he falls to the bed to lie on his back, breaths harsh and panting. He rolls over to face Jaskier just as their breathing is calming, his fingers once again reaching between his legs to play at his rim, humming contentedly when Jaskier splays his thighs wider for better access.

"I paid for the night," Geralt comments, almost offhandedly, but quickly distracts Jaskier from the questions already popping into his head with biting kisses and roaming fingers. Jaskier is more than amenable.

*

He wakes the next morning to Fringilla's patently obnoxious knocking at the bedroom door preceding her barging in with a cup of tea and no qualms about Jaskier's prick being out and about, the covers mostly having ended up on the floor during the night. She does, however, make the best cuppa Jaskier's ever had in his life, hence why he puts up hardly any fuss about it.

"Before you ask, your witcher is finally fixing the window he destroyed," she says rather carelessly for delivering such intriguing information. At least Sabrina knows how to convey gravitas.

"Is that wise?" he asks. Yennefer is known to be _particular_ , and Geralt seems to have a penchant towards destroying property rather than mending it.

She shrugs. She's got bruises running in rings along the side of her neck, a testament to a rather nice evening if Jaskier's even seen one. "It's either that, or order a new one from Jupiter's Gossamer Rings."

"Ah," Jaskier comments. Then sips his tea.

Before she leaves, she idly says, "I believe he's staying for lunch, too," which is unexpected, but, well, Jaskier can't say that he _minds_.

He doesn't hurry downstairs, though. Leaving a lad waiting is just plain good advice for a working boy.

**Author's Note:**

> ETA 14/09/2020: Also, I have a tumblr: [rhubarbdreams](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/)


End file.
